


Who We Are (or axgweek drabbles)

by KeganHorse



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen, axgweek, i'm late, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7655584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeganHorse/pseuds/KeganHorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>axgweek. Themed drabbles.</p>
<p>Arya returns to Winterfell. Who are these people now ruling under the Stark banner?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who We Are (or axgweek drabbles)

She sat towards the back of the hall, silent and staring into her bowl of soup while listening to the conversations of the men around her. She had arrived in Wintertown a fortnight ago and had been helping with the repairs. Cooking food and mending clothing while the men rebuilt the battered walls and storefronts. They didn't ask her where she came from nor why she was there, and nobody looked too long at a girl with dark hair and muddy brown eyes.

  
At the front of the hall sat the King in the North, speaking to Sir Davos and a few others in between brooding. To his left was Lady Stark. She spoke casually and easily to all those who approached her, though her eyes remained like cold blue ice.

  
Their table was full of faces she had seen before. Brienne the Beauty. Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myrr. The Hound even. And, surprisingly, a tall dark-haired blacksmith.

  
She watched him often, speak with the King and Sir Davos. Occasionally Lady Stark would be there, and he would cast down his eyes and stammer out his courtesies. Call her m'lady and bow. She was the one to offer him the forge, a month or so ago. The smallfolk say he forgot his manners at the offer and smiled so brightly that even the frozen Lady had faltered and blushed.

  
Stupid boy. He was smiling now as he spoke to the King, an easiness in their manner of conversing that she could not remember having seen in him when he spoke to those above his station. An ease that he had found difficult even with her. And yet here he was, speaking to a king of all people, and one would think they were brothers.

  
She had come to Winterfell to find her home. Her family. She had told Jaqen that she was not no one. She had a name. Looking at the head table, with faces of past enemies that seemed so much more familiar than that of her kin, she wasn't so sure anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This was for prompt #1: Jealousy. I wrote it pretty quickly (and just over a week late), so I hope it is enjoyable enough. Was my jealousy bit too subtle? If it was, Arya is pretty much just jealous of everybody. I imagine returning home and finding that your remaining family has joined up with eachother and that childhood friend and all those people you once had on your super normal kill list would be a little ostracizing.


End file.
